Just Like Swimming
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl. Set in Alexandria, but AU because it's drama-free Alexandria. Daryl spends the day teaching Carol how to swim and, maybe, she'll teach him a thing or two. Rated for suggestive language/conversation.


**AN: So this was written to go with the prompt that someone sent me about wanting Daryl or Carol to teach each other to swim. I chose to have Daryl teach Carol to swim.**

 **It's set in the Alexandria Safe Zone, but it's somewhat AU because it's a drama-free Alexandria.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"I feel ridiculous," Carol said. "Weren't you the one who said I looked ridiculous? Well now I _really_ look ridiculous."

She held her arms out to the side like the rubber ducky floaties, which Daryl had pushed up her arms as far as they would go, were burning into her flesh. Daryl simply laughed at her and pushed her along in front of him with his hand at her back.

"You can take 'em off any time you want," Daryl pointed out. "You the one that's scared to death I'ma let'cha drown or something."

"It only takes a minute," Carol said. "One minute of you getting distracted and...that's not how I want to die."

Daryl didn't point out to her that there were far worse ways to die or that she was for more likely to die in those other ways than she was to drown in his care. It probably wasn't the kind of pep talk that she needed at just that moment. Still, these days you never knew what skills were going to come in handy. You never knew what simple skill might lie between you and survival. Daryl wasn't sure if he could live with himself if that skill, for Carol, turned out to be swimming and he had to live knowing that he hadn't done anything to help remedy the fact that she couldn't swim.

Daryl had learned to swim in what Merle had called the "old fashioned way." His brother had taken him out to the pond when he was a kid, walked him out on the dam, and threw him in the water. Then he'd waited for instinct to take over. He'd waited for Daryl's brain to realize that, even though he was terrified, the knowledge of how to save himself was somewhere down deep inside him. It was instinctual. Daryl had learned to swim that day, even if he hated his brother for at least a week, and his technique had improved over time to develop beyond the floundering fight for survival that it had started out being.

But Daryl wasn't going to throw Carol in the water. Not in the same way. He was sure there had to be a better way to teach her how to swim.

"Only reason you look ridiculous is because you're wearin' more clothes for a swimming lesson than most people wear in a normal damn day," Daryl insisted. "You drown, it'll be that heavy ass sweater that pulled you down."

Carol looked concerned as soon as Daryl said it and he laughed to himself. He was wearing what he considered the minimum for a somewhat public swimming expedition. He'd found shorts and a white shirt that should do the trick. Carol was dressed in probably half the clothes that she owned.

"I ain't gonna let you drown," Daryl assured Carol, "but you'd find it easier to move if you weren't so bound up when you get wet. All that's just gonna suck down on you." Daryl didn't miss the expression that quickly flitted across Carol's features at his words, and he felt his face grow warm. "Stop," he warned before she even got the chance to start.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"What was I doing?" She asked. She was still smirking. She knew exactly what she was doing. Or what she was thinking. She always seemed to catch Daryl when he misspoke.

And part of Daryl wondered why it was that she seemed to be the only one who ever caused him to misspeak in such a way.

"Come on, at this rate we'll lose the daylight," Daryl said.

"We just finished breakfast," Carol said.

"That's my point," Daryl said. "Get'cha damn shoes off and get in the water." Daryl pushed her gently toward the water to let her know that he meant business. He toed off his own shoes and left them in the grass. Carol seemed reluctant, but finally she came out of her shoes. "Socks, too," Daryl added in case she needed a little more help figuring out what wasn't necessary in the water. Carol took off her socks and stood there staring at Daryl. He regarded her and sighed. "Take the damn clothes off. You look ridiculous, but more'n that, it's just going to cause you to struggle. Come on—strip. There ain't nobody out here. I told 'em the pond was off limits for the day."

The small, man-made pond in Alexandria was perfect for a swimming lesson. It was clear of Walkers and they were as protected there as they were in any other part of the walled community. Daryl had waded out in it already and knew that it was deep enough to swim in, and right in the middle would be over Carol's head, but it wasn't deep enough to really have too much of a struggle to find purchase with their feet and get their heads back above water.

"Are you trying to get me out of my clothes?" Carol asked, some of the leftover amusement from Daryl's earlier slip still evident.

Daryl bit his lip but realized that, if he was going to get her out of the clothes and into the water, he was going to have to play along with her. And he would play along with her because wearing fewer articles of clothing was going to make this much easier.

He reminded himself, after all, that his only interest in getting Carol to shed her excess clothes was to get her in the water.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's about the only thing I want today. To get you outta them clothes."

As soon as he said it, he wanted to choke.

"The only thing?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrows again. "I thought you wanted me to learn to swim."

"It's in the top two," Daryl corrected. "Will you please just take off the damn clothes? Before I have to rip 'em off you myself?"

The corners of her lips curled up.

"Even better," Carol offered.

"Stop," Daryl said, pointing his finger at her to let her know that he meant it.

He didn't want to spend too much time trying to get her in the water because he had no idea how long it would take her to learn to swim, but he also didn't want the conversation to become too suggestive. After all, his shorts weren't that thick, they weren't in the water just yet, and he was sure there was going to be more than a little contact between them once they were.

Carol held her arms out to Daryl with a sigh and he took the flotation devices off for her and tossed them at the ground.

"You don't need them no way," Daryl said. "I swear to you—I ain't gonna let you drown. Promise, if I do? It'll be because I drowned first and I don't got plans to die in six feet of water."

"It's six foot deep?" Carol asked, her eyes getting wide.

"For the love of...would'ja take that off?" Daryl exclaimed.

He hadn't meant to yell and he wished he could take it back. He knew that yelling at Carol changed the way she saw almost any interaction. It was a way to get her to do what he wanted her to do—but then he was aware that she wasn't doing it with the willing mood that he wanted her to use. He mumbled an apology as Carol shucked off her sweater. Underneath, she was wearing a tank top and—planned or not—she wasn't wearing a bra.

Daryl did everything in his power not to stare—and he thought he did a fair job of it, even though he was certain he failed at least a little.

"Pants too," he directed.

"I'm not taking off my pants," Carol said.

"You got underwear on? You do, and it'll be the same as a bathing suit," Daryl said. "Or you left that off too?"

Carol's cheeks burned red. Maybe she thought he hadn't noticed she wasn't wearing a bra underneath the tank top. Maybe she didn't realize that her nipples were hard. She didn't tell him, one way or another, what she was thinking. Instead, she popped the button on her jeans and shimmied out of them revealing that she had, at least, put on panties for the swim.

"You better not be lying," Carol said, looking around. "There better not be anyone out here."

Daryl looked around too, but there was nobody out there and he thought he'd made himself pretty clear when he told everyone that they wanted privacy. Still, Carol looked mortified. She looked like she wanted him to let her drown because then, at least, she wouldn't feel her embarrassment anymore. Being without her clothes, it seemed, put Carol into a very different place than she normally was when she was covered up, even if her body was beautiful and she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Still, Daryl understood that feeling, and he didn't want her to be alone in the somewhat painful experience of being uncomfortably exposed.

He sighed and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the ground. Being without his shirt, for Daryl, was more humiliating than even being without his pants would have been—and he wasn't wearing any underwear under the shorts. It was the best show of solidarity that he had and he let Carol know it.

"Best I got," he said quietly.

She frowned deeply, but it was a different frown than before. She turned and walked toward the water, stepping gingerly into it like it was going to be six feet from the start.

Daryl followed after her and waded in deeper, holding his hands out to her as he backed into the water so that she would come toward him—always trusting him to catch her if she should need it. He led her out until she was chest deep in the water and then he dropped his hands.

"I'ma pick you up," Daryl said. "I want you to just relax."

"I'm too heavy," Carol protested.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You ain't too heavy out the water," Daryl said. "But you won't weigh nothing in here. Let me worry about that. You just worry about relaxing."

Daryl picked her up and held her across his arms. She folded in on herself at first and Daryl slowly walked her out to where the water got deeper. Without her feet on the ground, though, she wasn't as aware of the changing depths as Daryl was. Daryl kept reminding her to relax—something she was finding very difficult—until she finally did stretch out in his arms.

"All the way," Daryl said. "Lean back. Close your eyes. I ain't even gonna let you sink. Just—relax like you layin' in bed."

And, eventually, she did close her eyes and relax. Daryl stood there for longer than he really meant to, just holding her as she lie back in the water with her eyes closed. He felt the moment that she relaxed enough to start to float—the moment when he could have moved his arms—but he didn't move them immediately.

For a moment his eyes noticed the wet tank top and the obvious chill of the water mixed with the air around them that was comfortable but not hot by any stretch of the imagination. He got distracted, though, by the look on her face. When she relaxed, she looked entirely relaxed. She looked different with her eyes closed like that. She was starting to feel comfortable there—and Daryl couldn't ignore that it meant she felt comfortable in his arms—and there was a soft curve of a smile on her lips. The longer they stood there, the more peaceful she looked.

And the more it struck Daryl that this—as absurd as it seemed—was what it felt like to have someone who trusted you completely.

Coming back to himself, and tearing his eyes away from her face, Daryl realized that they had to move on or he would be the one that caused them to lose the day before Carol learned to swim at all. He cleared his throat and she jumped at the sound, so he waited a moment for her to return to her relaxed state. Then, carefully, he moved his arms from under her. First he moved them just a bit, immediately returning them, so that she wouldn't panic, and then he finally moved them away completely.

"Relax," he said softly, hoping that his tone of voice would make her continue to do just that. "Stay just like you are. Don't move. Open your eyes."

By the time Carol opened her eyes, Daryl had stepped several steps away from her. She looked around, following his orders for a moment, and then she panicked when she realized he wasn't right there. Her panic did just what Daryl thought it would and she sunk. She could stand up in the water, on her tiptoes, but she didn't discover that until she'd floundered around a good deal.

"You were floating," Daryl said, when Carol had calmed and he'd returned to her side. She clung to him like she might drown in water where she could easily keep her head up. "You didn't sink until you panicked."

"You left me!" Carol said.

"And you didn't die," Daryl pointed out. "Point is, if you relax? No matter how deep the water is? Just make yourself relax? You'll float. You'll go right up to the top and you'll just—float there. Like you been doing. Panic? That's when you sink."

"It's not easy to relax when you don't know how to swim," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You can swim," Daryl said. "Anybody can. Look. We ain't goin' above your head. You're just gonna—do what I do. You get scared? Touch your feet down. But just—do what I do. Copy me."

Daryl lifted his feet and showed Carol how to stay in place and tread water enough to keep her head up. She copied him and sunk the first time, immediately pushing herself back up with her feet, but with a little pressing she tried again. They worked with that simple move until she was smiling and obviously feeling confident in it. Then Daryl pushed her to try simply moving her arms to slowly move herself forward—and then backward—while still hovering over ground that she could touch. Eventually, they moved on to incorporating some leg kicks that would propel her movement.

And Carol was a star pupil. Daryl had never taught anyone to swim before, but he thought she picked it up faster and better than he imagined anyone else might. And he told her so.

As time progressed, Daryl convinced Carol to "chase" him in the water to force her to move in more than one direction. To prolong the game, he chased her too. He wasn't sure how long they spent out there, playing around in the little pond, but he knew that his skin was very well pruned and he was starving by the time he realized they should probably call it a day—even if he really didn't want it to end.

As a final show, Daryl "chased" Carol, who seemed to really enjoy the game, out into the middle of the pond where he was sure that she couldn't touch. When he stopped chasing her, she stopped and waved her arms under the water—just the way that he'd taught her—to keep her head above the waterline. Daryl smiled at her.

"Put your feet down," he instructed. As soon as she tried to do what he asked, stopping with the motion of her arms, Daryl saw the panic register on her face. She realized that she couldn't touch. "Move your arms! You can stay up! You been doing it."

Carol started the action again, despite her panic, and slowly the expression faded off her face as she realized that she _could_ keep herself from sinking.

"I can swim," she said, some amazement in her voice.

Daryl laughed.

"You always could," Daryl said. "Instinct. Somethin' everybody's just born knowin'. Just gotta—remind your brain that you know how to do it. Still—you know how to do it now. And you do it good."

"How good can I swim when we've just been playing?" Carol asked. "Going back and forth."

"Good enough not to drown," Daryl said. "Good enough to move from one end of the water to the other—and good enough to get away from something if it was chasing you. I'd say that's good enough. Especially for your first day. Don't expect too much the first day. And that was really damn good for just your first time."

Carol's expression changed again. Then she looked around and swam back toward the more shallow water until she could touch again.

"Do you mean we'll do this again?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, never stopping his treading to keep himself afloat.

"Thought we should," Daryl said. "Practice and—practice and all. It's a skill—you know? You gotta—gotta keep practicing."

Carol nodded her head.

"We should definitely practice," she said.

"So we do it again," Daryl said. He swam over to stand near her once more.

Carol was looking at him intently—it was the kind of look from her that always unnerved Daryl a little. He found it difficult to breathe when she looked at him like that.

"Thank you," Carol said.

"Nothin' but a thing," Daryl said.

She nodded her head slightly, but she didn't break the hold on him that she had with her eyes.

"So you taught me how to swim," Carol said.

"Maybe not perfect," Daryl said, his stomach twisting a little with all the feelings that he couldn't quite explain that were wrestling around inside him. "But I tried."

"And you succeeded," Carol said. She glanced around but quickly returned her eyes to him. "That's—one thing off your list."

Daryl furrowed his brows at her.

"My list?" He asked.

"Of things you want today," Carol said. "The other you said—on the bank..."

Daryl realized what she was talking about and his whole body reacted with a flush of nervous energy.

"Oh—I—that..." he stammered.

"If you were serious? If you—tried for the other as hard as—you tried for the swimming? Maybe even—maybe even not quite as hard?" Carol said, her own voice coming out with its own slightly stammering quality to it. "You might accomplish both things."

Daryl swallowed.

"You took off the sweater," he said.

"But I'm still wearing a few things," Carol said. Her expression changed again—maybe it was even to something like sadness. Something caught in Daryl's throat and his breathing picked up because he got the distinct feeling that he was ruining something—something he didn't want to ruin. Carol shrugged her shoulders. "No pressure," Carol said. "I just—thought—I'd let you know that you're good at teaching swimming and—I bet you'd be good at anything you put your mind to." She started out of the water, walking, and stopped. She turned back to look at him. "Thank you, Daryl," Carol offered. "It was fun. It'll be nice to—do it again."

Daryl watched her as she got out of the water. He watched her as she gathered up her clothes and pulled them back on—with a little struggle—over her wet clothes and skin. He watched her pick up the floaties to return them to Rick and he watched her slipping her feet into her boots.

If she got her feet into her boots, she would walk away. And when she walked away, she would go on about the rest of her day. Maybe she'd shower. Maybe she'd cook something for dinner. Maybe she'd pay a visit to Rick to return the floaties. No matter what she did, she'd go on about the rest of her day. The swimming lesson would be over—and so would the chance of anything that might have happened.

Somehow, Daryl found the strength to move his muscles despite the fact that they felt frozen into place. Knowing that he could swim through the water faster than he could walk, he swam as quickly as he could to the point where he couldn't any longer and then he rushed out of the water, calling Carol's name as he did so.

She stopped, her boots finally on her feet, and waited for him.

Daryl rushed across the grass and wrestled his own shirt on, his whole body feeling like it was shaking, and then he picked up his boots to carry them.

"Stop," Daryl said, the only word he could get out for a second. "Wait. I wanna—I mean—I'm gonna walk with you."

Carol looked around and then nodded her head at him.

"You can walk with me," she said.

"I mean walk with you home," Daryl said.

Carol nodded again.

"You can do that too," she said.

Daryl's heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he was sure she'd be able to see it if he didn't have his shirt on already.

"I wanna try," he said, hoping she wouldn't force him into saying what, exactly, it was that he wanted to try.

"I want to try something too," Carol said. "OK?"

Losing his voice, and not daring to tell her "no" at the moment, Daryl nodded his head. Carol surprised him when she stepped forward and leaned up to bring her lips to his. Softly she kissed him and he'd only barely begun to react, in accordance to the feelings in his body, and return the kiss when she broke it.

"I want you try too," Carol said. "And I have a feeling—it'll be just like swimming."


End file.
